Cleaning with a Baby

My two month old does not approve of cleaning.

I know because I’ve tried. I’ve tried putting him, peacefully sleeping, in his bassinet only to hear a mighty roar one, three, five minutes later. I’ve tried bending over to tidy while wearing him in a soft structured baby carrier (no unwitting brand promotion here!), the little pouch where he spends a good portion of his day, only to find that I must devote one hand to supporting his floppy little baby head.

And so I am sitting here, listening to Bach and looking at an assortment of Christmas presents (which need to be wrapped), board books (which need to be shelved), dishes (which need to be washed), and laundry (which needs to be folded). The couch, at least, is clean - I can tidy anything that falls between my knees and shoulders, so long as it does not disturb my sleeping two month old.

Sometimes he is content to sit in his bath chair in front of a baby gym, determined to kick the little red circle with his tiny foot. But never leave him lying flat (back or front) without sufficient entertainment or he will growl like a bear - after all, the main purpose of these Big People, as everyone knows, is to constantly cuddle him. He is a two month old, after all, totally unaware of a world outside his own needs to be warm, cuddled, and well-fed.

He is a bit of a tyrant, my little two month old baby. He doesn’t particularly care if the house is neat (he can’t see it) or if my hair is brushed (all the better for pulling) or if I would like to sit semi-peacefully in my rocking chair (Bounce me! Bounce me! Bounce me!).

Perhaps he knows best - that it’s better to spend my time admiring his talented coordination (well, almost coordination) of feet and hands or his well-developed trick of social smiling than cleaning my house.

Maybe. I’d still like to get the dishes done.

Hyattsville, MD.